Laundry Day
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Story based on PruCan Laundry Day by mystiklsushi who is on DA Domestic fic- A light piece about Prussia and Canada going to a Laundromat. Fluff, sweet gooey fluff.


FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA, READ THE DAMN WARNING!  
IT IS THERE FOR A REASON…..

Warning: Some of these stories(not all) in the coming chapters will contain Yaoi. Yaoi is boy x boy love, man meat on man meat, all wieners-no buns. If you are not into that, do not read or complain. You have been fairly warned.

…  
If you are driving the short bus and still don't get it, Yaoi=Gay.

This story and Axis Powers Hetalia depicts people and persons as the direct personification of that nation/country, so if this concept bothers you, this might not be the right story for you, especially if you are unable to mentally grasp that these nations are centuries years old despite their outward appearance.

All people, persons, nations, and whatever represented in these stories are of legal age. No minors of any kind are depicted in these stories by the author, personal perception(s) of the reader(s) aside. Keep walking pedobears, nothing for you here.

It boils down to this-  
IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. IT'S THAT FREAKING SIMPLE!

"FACEPALM"…FOR THE LOVE OF DOITSU AND BEER…..  
I have nothing against any characters/states/nations of Hetalia. I understand that everyone has their favorite characters/pairing. I know I do. If you don't like how a character(s) is portrayed, please don't be a hater about it. If you think the writing is shit(I don't know what you expect-it already states I'm a hack on my profile), then write your own damn story about the nations. It is a lot easier to critic that create. Please keep that in mind. And once again-  
IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ! NOT A HARD CONCEPT!

Enjoy. 3  
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APH PruCan Laundry Day

The awesome personification of the dead nation of Prussia and now East Germany was currently claiming the land of Canada's bed as his new territory. The pale being stretched out luxuriously wide until he was spread eagle across the king sized mattress. When the two nations had first started dating, Matthew had originally had a basic full sized bed for most of his adult existence, a lover to share it few and far between. Gilbert's abrupt moving in and his insistence about being comfortable had changed all that though. The pale nation liked to lounged in cool sheet bliss without having his limbs hang off the edges of the bed awkwardly. It also lowered the chances of the couple falling out of bed while screwing so in Gilbert's mind it was all win-win.

Preferably he would have liked to be lounging with certain Canadian cuddled up next to him, naked, waking, and wanton but the other nation was noticeably absent. Not bothering to open his eyes, Gilbert felt around just in case he had lost Matthew to a corner. The Canadian's courtesy extended to the bedroom as well it seemed, Matthew often curling up tight to take up the least amount of space possible. Gilbert made it a point to always hunt him down from whatever far off spot Matthew had tucked himself away to. Gilbert would then draw Matthew in close so that the two nations slept flush usually with the older nation wrapped bodily around the younger so that not even a nosy polar bear cub could come between them.

Speaking of Gilbert's continuous pain in the ass, Kumajirou was situated against pale nation's side, the cub making the albino's lean belly his pillow and a very poor substitute for his master in Gilbert's opinion.

"I'm not your pillow, bear.", Gilbert grumbled, shifting around a little to convince Kumajirou further about his un-pillow like qualities.

"Yes, you are unless you want a cold nose where the sun don't shine.", Kumajirou growled, reminding the nation that he was quite naked so the bear definitely had options on where he wanted to make Gilbert most uncomfortable.

"You're lucky I'm awesome.", Gilbert muttered, ignoring how the animal's fur tickled his pale skin. This is why his chick was so much better than a dumb bear. Gilbird stayed on top of his head and kept most of his body parts and feathers to himself (Molting season was hard on them both though. Gilbert would look practically blonde for a short while from the amount of yellow feathers stuck in his silver hair). The little bird was not in his normal spot though. Gilbert cracking one eye open to look up, his own bed head blocking his view. He couldn't feel or hear, Gilbird prone to snoring(which the chick denied) and fluttering in his sleep. Mentally shrugging, Gilbert assumed his chick had gotten up with his lover, both early risers. The thought of the Canadian shuffling around making pancakes with a baby chick on his head was almost enough to make Gilbert get up…..almost. He was reminded with a growl that a bear was holding him hostage with the threat of a cold nose to his taint.

"You're lucky I don't bite your nads off, hoser. Shut up and go back to sleep.", Kumajirou grunted, snuffling his snout against Gilbert's side in a lazy bear fit before settling down again.

"No one's going back to sleep. Get up please.", said the absent nation with missing chick on his head. Not moving an inch, Gilbert slitted his eyes to grin lazily up a very awake Matthew.

"Guten Morgen to you to, Birdie. Where are my pancakes?", Gilbert said. He was a little upset to see that Matthew was dressed for the day in his second unofficial uniform of red hoodie paired with jeans. In a perfect world, at least according to Gilbert, Matthew would wake him up with a plate full of pancakes slathered in butter and maple syrup…naked.

"Downstairs. You know what happens when you eat in bed.", Matthew said who remained determinedly clothed despite Gilbert's best mental efforts.

"I get kinky Maple flavored sex?", Gilbert guessed as he arched his brows in what he thought was a seductive manner (Francis had been trying for decades to make him stop).

"No. I get sticky sheets to clean up and you go back to sleep as soundly as a fat bear I know.", Matthew corrected, poking said fat bear in the belly with his finger. Kumajirou tried to bite the prodding digit off but general laziness on his part prevailed in his failed attempts. Matthew chose to ignore Gilbert's ridiculous eyebrow gesture of 'come hither' and wondered if there was anything that he could do to make him stop from ever doing it again.

"They'll get sticky either way.", Gilbert shrugged, trying rationality(his version of it) next, "C'mon Birdie, I need something to wake me up.".

"Ok.", Matthew nodded, reaching down toward the pale nation. Gilbert caught some air from the amount of force the Canadian used to flip the mattress, dumping its occupants. The albino belly flopped onto the hardwood floor with a groan, the bear landing on top of his bare butt only adding insult to injury.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?", Matthew asked a touch smug as he stripped the mattress of its sheets, a task made wonderfully easy with the absence of a bear and Prussian's prone bodies upon it.

"Arschloch." and "Moose turd' were groaned in unison from the proximity of the floor.

"Oh, I know. I am such a heartless fiend, disturbing your sleep before noon just so that I could steal your precious bedding.", Matthew cooed down at the grumpy pair now righteously armed with his load of laundry.

"You're a monster.", Gilbert complained to the floorboards. He grunting as Kumajirou jumped off of his backside with a bounce, the bear running out of the room. Gilbert was left to swat at an invasive toe that was nudging at his ribcage, the Canadian taking over for his bear in annoying the pale nation.

"Quit scaring the dust bunnies and get dressed.", Matthew ordered as he continued his foot assault against bare, ticklish sides.

"Nein. The dust bunnies are my only friends now. Life is too cruel to go on.", Gilbert yawned, rolling onto his back to that he could get a proper grip around Matthew's ankle, "When's the last time you cleaned underneath this bed anyway? Seriously, it's like a burrow of debauchery under here."

"You live here too now. You could clean it.", Matthew pointed out as he hopped on one foot to keep his balance. "Would you let go?".

"Don't start something if you can't back it up.", Gilbert grinned, tightening his grip on Matthew ankle to jerk it around a little bit and make the Canadian dance, "And that is centuries of dust bunnies just fucking each other stupid underneath your bed. For shame Canada, I thought you were more environmental conscious than America.". Gilbert became momentarily blind from the full amount sheets being dumped on his head.

Matthew freed himself easily enough in the confusion, stomping away. "I'm going to feed your pancakes to Kuma….Kuma?…..to the bear.", Matthew sniffed dryly, "Bring the sheets down with you."

"It was a joke!", Gilbert backpedaled, fighting his way out from under his impromptu cover.

"Birdie?", Gilbert looked around to find the Canadian gone.

"Scheiße! I'm have you stuffed if you even so much as breathe on my pancakes, bear! You hear me!? Stuffed!", Gilbert yelled as he raced around the room, trying to find clothes. Matthew had a 'no nudity in the kitchen' rule for some strange reason. Gilbert blamed Francis. He wasn't sure how the French nation played into this rule or what Francis had done to even cause its creation but he was positive in the end that it was all Francis's fault somehow.

The universe seemed to be working against him enjoying breakfast in a timely manner though. All of Gilbert's clothes that he had so meticulously spread out over the floor for his convenience were gone. "Hey Birdie! Where are my clothes?", Gilbert called from the doorway as he leaned against its frame, idly scratching his bare bottom. It was a sad day when a nation as great as himself couldn't find his underwear.

Matthew's head popped out from around a corner to give Gilbert an incredulous look. "I put them away or they are in the laundry.", he said.

"Why'd you do that?", Gilbert groaned, turning back to glare at the bedroom as a whole with all its many closets and dressers in which his clothing was now sequestered to be hidden forever from him.

"In these modern times, we have these newfangled inventions called hangers. We put our clothes on them to keep them neat. After this is done, we put them these small rooms called closets so that we will be able to find them later.", Matthew deadpanned as he walked by the bedroom with another armload of linen. "If you give me a second, I'll come back and explain the mysteries of the sock drawer to you.".

"You're lucky you're cute.", Gilbert rolled his eyes at the amount of sarcasm he was being served this morning. He actually didn't mind. It kept things interesting and he was one of the few who knew how witty Matthew really was.

With his pancakes' safety still in mind, Gilbert ended up grabbing the first few things he could find which turned out to be a pair of brown cargo pants that were too big for him being Matthew's, a reasonably clean white t-shirt from the bottom of the bathroom hamper that Matthew had somehow missed, and a grey hoodie out from under the bed that was covered in dust bunnies. Gilbert shook the hoodie clean as he struggled to get dressed and walk downstairs at the same time. He had to double back half way down the stairs though having forgotten the sheets. His discombobulated efforts almost resulted with him falling down the stairs twice and taking out a low glass coffee table. Upon entering the kitchen, the retrieved sheets were chucked at a nosy bear's head as Gilbert walked in to find Kumajirou becoming far too friendly with his plate stacked high with pancakes.

"That's what you get!", Gilbert crowed at the disgruntled animal, scooping up his plate and not bothering with utensils as he started to eat his favorite food. He rolled up each fluffy disk, the mouth watering breakfast food soaked through and through with buttery maple syrup goodness. Gilbert moaned breathlessly as a need for fulfilled, the pale nation licking at stray rivulets of sticky syrup that trailed down his fingers.

"And this is why you're not allowed to eat in bed.", Matthew shook his head as he passed by with arms filled with more soiled clothing, cutting through the kitchen to get to the laundry room.

Gilbert shrugged, too full of pancake bliss to really care. While he ate, he picked up the sheets off of the floor with his toes, draping the bedding over a nearby chair to prove Matthew wrong. He could totally eat pancakes his way and not make things sticky. Gilbert decided to expand upon this idea by harassing Kumajirou. He amused himself by pinching the bear's stubby tail with his big toe and pointer toe and giving it a good pull. In turn, Kumijirou amused himself by trying to gnaw the albino's ankles off.

"Suck it, bear. I got mad skills with my monkey toes.", Gilbert taunted, tweaking the bear's tail again before hopping away safely on one foot from snapping jaws. "Kesesese."

"Tabarnak!" was yelled quite suddenly from a room way. It was followed by the sounds of meat hitting metal signaling that an appliance was being abused.

The outburst was more than enough to stop the nation and bear's impromptu game. It wasn't often that the nation of Canada felt the need to cuss that loudly, unless alcohol, hockey, and/or Americans were involved.

Quickly wolfing down the last of his pancakes and disposing his plate in the sink, Gilbert wandered into the laundry room, still licking his fingers to find out what had happened. He wondered if another red item of clothing had gotten into the whites again. As cute as Matthew looked in pink, it was not the color of awesome and Gilbert didn't care how many people or nations told him that he could pull that color off. The nation of Prussia and now Germany(at least half of it) did not wear pink. Ever. Period.

Gilbert found Matthew glaring acidy death at the washing machine which was now sporting an impressive dent in its side for all its linty sins. "Did it insult your poutine?", Gilbert asked, the albino openly amused in the face of Canadian fury. It wasn't often Matthew lost his temper with things especially inanimate objects.

"Poutine is amazing.", Matthew said on automatic, quite used to snide comments about one of his favorite foods. He was too busy glaring at the washer to defend it properly or in more detail though.

"It's soggy French fries covered in gravy and cheese curds. It looks like a moose vomited onto a plate.", Gilbert snickered as he tried to divine what was wrong with little success by just looking at the machine. His younger brother Ludwig was great fixing stuff like this. Gilbert was better suited in the breaking aspect of things though.

"Says the country famed for its bloodwurst and schwabish.", Matthew countered flatly. He kicked the washing machine again because he could, denting the metal. The machine wheezed back at him and then grew very still.

"I think it's dead.", Gilbert offered helpfully.

"Bon Dieu, I know.", Matthew sighed, "It could have waited until after laundry day to do so. I really didn't feel like going out today especially to a Laundromat of all places.".

"A what?", Gilbert didn't recognize the word and wondered if something was lost in translation.

"A Laundromat.", Matthew repeated to be met with a blank look from the pale nation. "You seriously don't know what one is?"

"Nein. Why should I?", Gilbert shrugged. He wondered if he should try kicking the washer as well to see if it came back to life, not liking the sound of this.

"It's a place where one goes to clean their clothes if they don't have a washer and dryer or if the one they do have dies at an inconvenient time.", Matthew explained overly slow.

"Why would I know that? West always did the laundry back home and you do it here.", Gilbert shot back, the explanation's mockery not lost on him. It was the same tone the Canadian used when he was talking to his American twin about such things as foreign policies and other topic that Matthew felt Alfred should know about already. Gilbert didn't like being in the same category as the ADD prone American.

"You've never washed your own clothes before?", Matthew asked, his tone becoming more inquisitive than sardonic.

"Nein. I was always too busy you know. Fighting, conquering, invading, claiming vital regions. That was always somebody else's job.", Gilbert answered carefully. He was starting to get a bad feeling from this line of conversation.

"Well then, it's settled. We are going to the Laundromat and you are going to learn how.", Matthew nodded as he started to pull the laundry out of the deceased washer.

"That doesn't sound awesome at all.", Gilbert groaned, watching in dismay as Matthew looking around the room for a laundry bag.

"I'm not your maid and if you are going to live here, you are going to do some chores.", Matthew said firmly, knowing that if you gave a Prussian nation an inch that he would take a mile, your vital regions, and anything else that wasn't nailed down.

"Isn't there anything else I can do?", Gilbert groaned, eyeing the growing mountain of laundry as bag and basket were filled.

"You can clean up after Kuma….the bear in the yard. That needs to be done today as well.", Matthew offered as he finished his task by remembering to bring laundry deterrent, softener, and dryer sheets. He didn't think he had enough change laying around the house and didn't really feel like hunting it down either. Matthew sighed as he checked his wallet to make sure he had smaller bills to break for change when they got there.

Gilbert briefly considered the offer until he noticed Kumajirou heading out his bear flap door with a wide toothy grin on his bear face. Gilbert glared sourly after the cub, even more certain now that small fluffy yellow chicks were the perfect companions for a nation.

"Pass."

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The Laundromat turned out to be even less thrilling than Gilbert had imagined. It was a large square space found in a strip mall that was filled half and half with large industrial washers and dryers. A long wooden table ran down the middle of the room to divide the two types of machines away from each other. Wheeled metal carts stood off to the sides of the table, looking a little battered and rusted from overuse.

Someone had attempted to make the room cheerful by painting the walls yellow. All it did in Gilbert's opinion was make the place seem dingy. It was an older business that much was obvious from the amount of cracked, aged linoleum on the floor. It was all mismatched as well, replacement tiles of red and blue with fishes upon it giving the general dullness a splash of color in sea of dull, sun faded yellow . The sole decorations in this place was a machine bolted to the wall that made change and another that dispensed packets of deterrent, stain remover, and dryer sheets at an excessive price for people who were not as organized as Matthew. A crooked bulletin board, the cork of it mostly gone, was filled beyond capacity with neon colored notices of long past garage sales, offers of free kittens and babysitting, inquiries for lost canines, and a plethora of phone numbers that could get you a lawyer, a job, or any hotline of your choice. A small tv in the corner, also bolted to the wall and it remote forever lost, gave a low but constant soundtrack of foreign news and events. It was loud enough to annoy the hell out of Gilbert but soft enough so that he could not make out what language it was being spoken in.

"So….what do you think?", Matthew asked, lugging the heavy laundry bag off of his shoulder onto the table. Gilbert placed the laundry basket he had been given beside it, the nation taking another long look around him.

"I think I have been in better prisons than this place.", Gilbert assessed with an air of obvious contempt.

"Well, get used to it. We are going to be here for a couple of hours.", Matthew sighed, "At least no one else is here. We can use as many machines as we want."

"Thank Gott for really small favors.", Gilbert grumbled, watching Matthew dump out the contents of the laundry bag onto the table. Gilbert did the same with his basket. "What are you doing? I thought we were going to wash these."

"We have to sort them first. White with white. Dark with dark.", Matthew instructed.

"That's racist. What are you trying to say? That the ugly stripey sweater is better than the towels?", Gilbert snickered, tossing a purple sock at the offensive article of clothing.

"I happen to like that sweater, thank you very much. Arthur made it for me.", Matthew defended the garment. Truthfully, it was rather offensive, the sweater a mess of fuchsia, chartreuse, and golden brown stripes.

"I thought Lord Eyebrows was good at scheiße like that.", Gilbert observed as he disentangled underwear from pants, having the bad habit of pulled off two separate clothing items at once to save time.

"He does. It's cozy, just big enough to be comfortably baggy, it's soft, and has everything you want in a sweater.", Matthew brandished the garment in question at the Prussian.

"Ja. Except taste.", Gilbert arched a slim silver brow at it. "Seriously, is he fucking color blind or something?"

"No. Arthur just gets a little odd whenever he knits sweaters. His color schemes for them are always a little…off.", Matthew conceded. His former keeper skill with a needle were well know among the nations and countries lucky enough to be on friendly terms with the English nation would receive exquisitely embroidered gifts from him. Even nations not prone to bragging tended to flaunt such rarities to the others. In particular, Kiku had black and crimson kimono with roses so finely sewn into the glittering silk they looked painted on.

That being said, Matthew knew first hand that Alfred had a collection of handkerchiefs, each small square of fine cotton embroidered with a different wildflower from his land. Matthew had only seen them once or twice, the American keeping them hidden from all others and safely locked away as he did with any item given to him by Arthur. Alfred received a new one every year for his birthday. Despite all the excitement and chaos of the fourth, Matthew was aware that Arthur's present was the one Alfred looked forward to the most, the small clothe given to him in private usually by a very sullen and drunk English nation.

While no nation could deny Arthur's talents with a needle and thread, his knitting left something to be desired. "Off? Really? That's what you are going with? You are way too nice for your own good, Birdie. Kesesese.", Gilbert snickered, his weird laugh breaking Matthew out of his revelry. "If Francis saw that, he would say the sweater was a hate crime and try to arrest Kirkland for all his fashion sins."

Matthew puffed out his cheeks in irritation, glaring at his lover as he hugged the sweater close to him, visually vile thing that it was. "You're one to talk Mr. 'I wear nothing but leather and obscure German punk band tshirts'.", Matthew pointed out. Most of the dark pile was made up of Gilbert's clothing. "And why do you need to change your outfit three or four times a day? What is the point? It's just you, me, and the bear.". A distressed cheep interrupted Matthew who looked up at an irked chick, the tiny bird puffing up its feathers. "I'm sorey Gilbird. I meant you, me, Gilbird, and the bear.", Matthew amended, reaching up to pet the chick. "The only other nation I knows who does that is Francis and he at least wears something vastly different every time.".

"Got to keep my day interesting.", Gilbert grinned, leaning in to press a quick series of kisses to pouting lips. He could feel a Canadian rant building and the best way to deflect one was a little TLC. Matthew was a sucker for the sugary love and Gilbert was more than willing to be his lollipop.

"Hmph. I'm not getting rid of it.", Matthew grumped, already feeling his defenses crumble as cool lips pressed themselves to his heated cheeks.

"And I'm not saying that you should. I'm just saying it's butt ugly and Eyebrows has a sense of taste so horrible that it even goes above and beyond his own cooking. I didn't think that was possible but life loves to prove me wrong.", Gilbert soothed, rubbing the silk of his pale cheek to the finer flesh of Matthew's creamy own.

"Believe it or not but Alfred's was worse." Matthew laughed softly, pulling away to start sorting clothes again now that his sweater was safe, insulted but safe.

Gilbert tried to envision that but failed. "Ok, I'll bite. What does it look like?", Gilbert's curiosity of the morbid getting the better of him.

"Zigzags in puce, mustard yellow, and laguna blue.", Matthew shook his head in remembrance. It made his sweater almost seem fashionable in comparison. Sad thing was he knew that Alfred actually wore it when he was missing Arthur. If that wasn't love, Matthew didn't know what was.

"Mein Gott…", Gilbert cringed as his mind tried to produce the anatomy of those color while comparing them simultaneously side by side. He was sure he blew a fuse somewhere in his head doing so. Shaking his head, Gilbert turned his attention back to his task. "Are we done with this yet?".

Carefully going through Gilbert's pile of whites in search of rogue red socks, Matthew nodded in satisfaction as he grabbed the pile. Gilbert watched with little interest as laundry and cleaning chemicals were loaded into several machines. Matthew explained the different settings and their purposes all the while, bless his heart, even going so far as to go into detail about the detergent and softener. The Canadian's words were lost on the other nation though who was too involved staring at the lithe curves of Matthew's butt to register them.

"Do you have any questions?", were the words that snapped Gilbert out of his observations.

"Nein. Got it.", Gilbert said smoothly, not missing a beat as he lied like a pro. He almost felt bad when Matthew beamed back at him. Gilbert basked in the expression anyway, the former Prussian figuring he could always read the back of the detergent bottle if he needed some emergency instructions. "So what now?".

"Nothing. We wait.", Matthew shrugged, hopping up to sit on the table.

"But that sucks!". Gilbert moaned as he fell into a fit of sneezing.

"Why do you do that?", Matthew asked, handing the other nation a tissue from a pack he always carried with on his person now.

"Do what?", Gilbert sniffled, giving Matthew strange look.

"Sneeze when you get bored. You treat boredom like an allergy." Matthew observed.

"I don't know. I just always have.", Gilbert shrugged, "Why do you always feel the need to apologize for things you have no control over?".

"No, I don't!", Matthew's brow furrowed in thought over the mild accusation.

"Birdie, you apologized to me this morning because the temperature dropped.", Gilbert pointed out.

"Well…..I know you don't like the cold and I hate to be the bearer of bad news.", Matthew explained with a touch of discomfort at being called out.

"Ja, but that's my problem not yours and you don't control the weather. It makes no sense to apologize for it.", Gilbert said, hopping up on the table to join the Canadian. "If someone were to walk in right now, you would probably apologize to them for sitting up on this table or for using more than one washer.".

"I would not…..", Matthew huffed. Gilbert gave him a pointed look until the Canadian was forced to look away, his cheeks growing rosy. "I might….."

"My point exactly. Seriously, who gives a scheiße?", Gilbert yawned. All the white noise from the washing machines was starting to make him drowsy.

"I'm not apologizing because I am actually sorey aboot something. It's more that I can sympathize with the situation or the person's lot in life.", Matthew reasoned out for them both.

"It's still a dumb thing to do.", Gilbert smiled to take the bite out of his words. He laid down on the table so that his head rested in Matthew's lap. "You're too awesome to be sorry.",

"High praise indeed from the likes of you.", Matthew chuckled, running long fingers through silver locks. "Am I awesome in general or is it all because of you?".

"Both.", Gilbert said after a moment of thought. "We're like stars colliding.".

"I don't know if that's romantic or not.", Matthew shook his head, his wavy locks bouncing off of his shoulders from the gesture. His hair was getting long again but Matthew was torn whether or not to cut it. He hadn't really grown out his hair since the 1700's when it was considered fashionable. It might be time again to do so just for 'shits and giggles' as Alfred would say.

"You bet your sweet ass it's romantic. I'm fucking all Casanova like when it comes down to the mushy crap.", Gilbert smirked, reaching up to flick at Matthew's hair curl.

"Behave or I'll leave you here at the Laundromat. You'll have to live off of lint and the random sock the dryers decide not to eat with only murmurs of the remoteless television to keep you company.", Matthew threatened, moving his head in time to spare his erotic zone abuse.

"You wouldn't! I am far too awesome for a fate worse than death.", Gilbert mock gasped, "Anyway, I know where you live. I would totally bust out of this joint and then have my revenge. It would be epic.".

"Ah, but you forget, I would be holding Gilbird hostage. Revenge on me would only mean his demise, possibly at your own hands.". Matthew shook his head sadly. Not liking the sound of this conversation, Gilbird fluttered off of Matthew's head down to Gilbert's, the chick nestling itself down deep in the Prussian's silver locks.

"That's just evil. When did you become such a villain?", Gilbert snorted, reaching up to pet his snuggling bird.

"Nobody expects Canadian vengeance.", Matthew pointed out.

"Fair enough.", Gilbert nodded, "Hey, did we ever decided what language the tv is on?".

"I was wondering that myself. I think it's Spanish.", Matthew looked over at the problem in question.

"I'm going with Mandarin.", Gilbert crinkled up his nose at the news announcer sporting an overly fake smile as the suited monkey pointed to a green screen that offered guesses about this week's weather.

"We could just unplug it. No one else is here still.", Matthew offered, starting to get up to do just that.

"Or we could do this!", Gilbert rolled off of the table and into action. He grabbed Matthew around his waist to shove the Canadian into one of the many carts. Matthew yelped as he found himself suddenly seating in a laundry cart, his legs and arms spilling over the sides of it. He held onto the frame for dear life when it became piloted by a Prussian with a wide and wicked grin painted across his pale face. Gilbert pushed Matthew around the Laundromat in recklessly fast circles, the cart occasionally glancing off of the sides of machines and the folding table to the screech of metal and the cart's occupant, and the sounds of impact.

"What are you doing!?", Matthew managed to shriek as he was hurtled around another corner.

"It's either this or watch soapy water spin. I would rather do this.", Gilbert laughed, putting hell to leather as he kicked off of a wall to gain an additional burst of speed.

"Maple!", Matthew shrieked as they glanced off the side of an ancient dryer. Taking action, Matthew sat up to turn around so that he could face his demented driver. Keeping balance, he leaned up to grab hold of Gilbert's face, forcing the albino to bend over him. Plush lips met thin cool ones as flesh overlapped and parted with a bite and a sigh.

As he kissed Gilbert, Matthew was only vaguely aware that they had come to a complete stop under the annoying television. It didn't matter though because Gilbert was above him, one arm gripping the wire of the cart tightly and the other around Matthew's waist to keep his Canadian in place. Matthew helped Gilbert in this endeavor by looping his arms around the Prussian's neck, deepening the kiss. Each of them was possessive in his own way.

The washer signaling that it was done with its cycle was the only thing that drew the nations apart, reminding the pair that though they were alone, they were still technically out in public.

"Scheiße. We're getting a new washing machine when we are done here, right?", Gilbert glared at the mechanical cockblock.

"You just want a new washing machine so that you can screw me on top of it.", Matthew laughed in a breathless manner that went straight to Gilbert's groin and made small parts in his lower belly ache.

"I don't need any excuse or machine to do that, liebling.", Gilbert flicked his tongue out to lick the tip of Matthew's nose. "Now let's get this done so we can go home.". With regret, Gilbert straightened up as he offered a hand to Matthew to help the Canadian out of the cart.

"What? Not loving the Laundromat?", Matthew teased, loving how Gilbert's warm touch lingered over his cool skin.

"This hellhole? Nein.", Gilbert snorted, before pulling Matthew close to him so that the seams of their bodies were flush. "But I do love you."

"Always and forever."

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THE END


End file.
